


Eff you, It's iconic

by Kuribonbon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged up characters, Chill Otabek, Fuck it lets get married, M/M, Mentions of other YOI characters, No chill Yuri, Pottymouth Yuri, Screwed up French wedding semantics, This got longer than i expected, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuribonbon/pseuds/Kuribonbon
Summary: Ha. Ha. Ha.  I am an absolute BABY to this fandom (like honestly less than two weeks into this fandom)  what the hell do I think I'm doing writing something among all you talented folks???!!??Just...Humor me...Cause...Otayuri.That is all.(Inspired by a Tumblr text post by user thanks-im-lovely)





	1. Ego = Rekt

**Author's Note:**

> Ha. Ha. Ha. I am an absolute BABY to this fandom (like honestly less than two weeks into this fandom) what the hell do I think I'm doing writing something among all you talented folks???!!??
> 
> Just...
> 
> Humor me...
> 
> Cause...
> 
> Otayuri.
> 
> That is all.
> 
> (Inspired by a Tumblr text post by user thanks-im-lovely)

It shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did. Really, he should have expected it. It slapped him in the face the way his bronze to JJ's silver did at Skate America. It hit him harder than when he had to tell his very religious parents that their only son was gay. It also hit him harder than when he had to tell said parents over the phone that he was going to propose to the boy he had fallen in love with after only two years of dating. 

Otabek was a man of simplicity. He never needed his ego to be stroked because he knew exactly who he was and absolutely respected it. But this? This was brutal. He would need his ego to be, first, revived from the dead and second, pampered as if it were the princess of a foreign country awaiting the throne. 

He honestly didn’t know what to expect when the evening had started. They were at the closing gala of Skate America and surrounded by friends and familiar faces. Otabek should have known it was a bad idea from that very moment. Yet, anyone was capable of anything when there was a few drinks in them. Alcohol wasn’t dubbed ‘liquid courage’ for nothing. 

“Hey Yura, what’s your last name?” It was legitimately the first time be had spoken since they arrived at the dinner. 

Yuri looked at him and responded in his I-have-no-control-of-the-volume-of-my-voice-because-i've-had-a-little-too-much-to-drink-tonight voice. “It’s Pliesetsky? You know that?” The response was accompanied by one of his annoyed expressions that was usually reserved for the general public and never for his Kazakhstan prince. 

Otabek could only push forward and smile one of his rare, award winning smiles and get up from the chair he was sitting in. At this point, the surrounding people had started to watch in interest. A few from neighboring tables also turned their heads when he turned Yuri and the chair he was sitting in to fully face him. It was only when he got on one knee and pulled out a small box from his pocket that the crowd gasped. He looked up expectantly to the person, the object of any desire he ever had, and held up the Cartier ring he had selected when he was back in Europe. 

“Maybe I can change that.”

Yuri scoffed and crossed his arms above his chest as if he was highly offended by the action. His cheeks puffed up and his brows furrowed with an all too familiar discontent. The room went extremely quiet for some hideous reason.

“Fuck you. I’m keeping my last name. It’s iconic.”

Needless to say, Otabek wanted to cry. That was not at all the response he wanted to solicit from the other. On the other hand, he should have expected as much from the ice tiger of Russia. He could be catastrophically colder and harder than the ice they skated on when needed. The room held onto the silence, even the orchestra stopped playing in the background. Otabek felt sick and trapped and wanted nothing more than to run far away from the moment. 

At this point, Yuri smiled wide, as if he was enjoying this cruel horror fest. He stood up from his chair and wiggled his fingers in front of Otabek's face. 

“That doesn’t mean I won’t marry you, Altin.”

Otabek had no idea how to even recover from this. By some miracle, his mind rebooted and collected the information that Yuri had in fact accepted the proposal after publically, and possibly globally thanks to social media, humiliating him. The fact was only concreted after Yuri cupped his face gently and leaned in for a chaste kiss. 

With much hesitation and the last reserve of his patience, Otabek slid the ostentatious ring onto Yuri’s slim finger. The crowd cheered. Some of their fellow skaters came by and clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations. Yuri ended up gluing himself to Otabek's side for the rest of the evening, smiling widely and acting a little too giddy for his usual demeanor. 

He didn’t know how the hell to feel. 

Yuri knocked out within the first few minutes of reaching their hotel room. Otabek undressed him to his underclothing and tucked him under the sheets. The rich gold of the Cartier ring caught in the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand and shone brilliantly. It was really mocking him. 

Otabek was a simple man, but sometimes his emotions were more than complex. What was so bad about taking the proud name of Altin? He came from a strong and respectable family. The name had no shame to it, especially after being rewarded the title of ‘the hero of Kazakhstan’ for all of his achievements. And where exactly did Yuri get off thinking Otabek wouldn’t take the Pliesetsky name? It was a two way street, after all. He crawled into bed next to the other, turning his back on the softly snoring individual. Yuri's words in his mind chased away any semblance of sleep. 

The next morning, Otabek woke up towards midday with Yuri still in bed next to him. He had his hand raised high above his head and was admiring the new piece of jewelry that adorned his index finger as it glistened in the rays of the sun that came in through the curtains. 

“It’s ridiculously expensive and I actually hate you for it.” Yuri turned to face him with a soft smile stuck to his face. “But I won’t make you take it back, because I absolutely love it. You know me so well. Bastard.”

Yuri turned his body until he was facing the other. Otabek felt the cool sensation of the ring against his cheek as his face was cupped and he was languidly kissed. This was always one of his favorite parts of any morning he woke up next to Yuri, yet those nine words wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Thank you, Beka.” Yuri laid several kisses all over his face. “My Kazakhstan king.”

For the first time since the night before, Otabek allowed himself to let his worries go and be drowned in the moment. He skated his best free program yet and Yuri was finally acting like a morning person, even though it was well past twelve in the afternoon. Not only that, but he had been promoted from a prince to a king. The unexpected nickname was a nice little salve applied to his ego. 

The rest of the day was a little short of horrid. While they tried to relax, they were forced to answer call after call of congratulations and the occasional friend trying to probe the details of the engagement, not to mention the battlefield twitter became thanks to ‘Yuri’s Angels.’ Viktor and other Yuuri called via Skype a little after things had finally settled down. 

It came much to Otabek's satisfaction when Viktor began yelling at Yuri for his awful words before accepting the ring and telling him he should hold onto Otabek more tightly because who else was going tolerate his bullshit enough to want to marry him? One could count that as more salve for the broken ego. The call went back and forth for a couple more minutes, filled to the brim with arguing and ended promptly when Yuri tossed the phone across the room at something Yuuri K had said. 

“Who fucking asked them for marriage advice, anyways? Stupid hags.”

Otabek just nodded in response. He still wasn’t sure how the hell to feel.

In twenty four hours time, the pair separated to go to their second qualifying events. They would meet back in Marseilles, France for the GPF. It gave Otabek time to think and explore his choice more in depth. His mother had called him. It took a little more than an hour to convince her that Yuri wasn’t as much of an asshole as he appeared to be in the viral marriage proposal video. Well, he usually was, just not with Otabek. At the end of the call, his mother was still skeptical but undeniably trusted her son. It made his heart ache in a terrible way. 

Though it was heavy on his mind, Otabek didn’t let his fiancé’s actions mar his performance. He set a new personal record in technical scores and even swooped the gold out of a very disgruntled Georgi’s grasp a couple of days later.

Yuri called via skype when he was alone for the night in his hotel room. He was all smiles and puffy eyes. Otabek tilted his head at the sight. 

“Yura?” 

“I heard a very handsome future husband of mine took gold today.” He sing-songed as he rocked side to side from where he sat, evidently his own hotel room from the dim lighting and plain colored walls. Yuri's Words Were a little more than salve, possibly a single stitch to the ego now. 

“I did. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner. The coach had me doing press, then I had a late, quick dinner. How did your qualifier go? We never speak before these things and I didn’t want to Google it. I'd rather hear it from you.”

Yuri slowly shook his head ‘no.’

Otabek leaned into the camera and raised an eyebrow. “Yura. Please?”

“By a third of a point, Otabek. Viktor took gold by a Goddamned third of a point. He landed his quadruple flip and threw in a combination I wasn’t expecting. I swear, if Katsudon was higher than me on the podium I would have retired right then and there in front of all of those assholes. The nerve of those fuckers.”

Otabek pulled up the results of the Cup of China as he listened to Yuri. “It’s a very thin margin, it’s too close to even consider it a real loss.”

Yuri pouted and then scowled in the way he did when he was upset and didn’t have a way to let it out appropriately. If Otabek was there in person, he’d know exactly what to do to make it better. Since miles separated them, he had to find other ways to deal. Tonight, China seemed even further from Russia than it actually was.

“You’re upset, right? So win me gold in Marseilles. I want gold and I want you to give it to me.”

Yuri looked down at something off screen and smiled. He brought his hand into view of the camera and wiggled his fingers. “Oh, so like when you gave me gold the other day? You want me to return the favor?”

The ring sparkled, even through the grain of the camera in dim lighting. Otabek gave a curt nod, as he often did when encouraging his partner. It wasn't much of a gesture, but Yuri knew the intention behind it by now.

“Davai?” He questioned, already knowing the automatic response. 

“Davai!” Yuri responded back cheerfully.

The next few days involved traveling and more rigorous training. Yuri and he avoided each other in order to prevent from any distractions. It was the way they usually handled competitions where both of them were involved.

The day of the GPF came quicker than he expected it and soon they were all skating their short programs. At the end of the day, the standings didn’t look to well for Otabek, but Yuri held the top spot above Viktor. 

The pair had a brief passing meeting in one of the halls, sharing a tight embrace.

“You looked so good out there. You were underscored. You landed all of your jumps. The judges are just riding that Nikiforov dick.” Yuri spat out that last part to emphasize his disgust of Viktor's popularity. 

“Enough about that. You were the amazing one. I’m so proud of you. You were so beautiful.”

There were a few more words of praise shared before the pair parted and went their ways. Sometimes Otabek wished that he and Yuri weren't so adamant about the “no affection during a competition” rule because he was in real need of the company.

The night only got worse when in a fit of unexpected self loathing he opened up Instagram. He was tagged in a video of a remix to Yuri's “fuck off, it’s iconic” set to some obnoxious, repetitive dubstep. The Deejay in him wanted to hang himself. It wouldn’t have been that serious if not for the fact that he had close to a thousand tags to deal with. He had so many notifications that he considered disabling every social media site he had ever signed up for.

The cherry on the top was a single text from a certain skater he was currently engaged to. It was only six words, but six words too many.

_Babe. I have become a meme._

Wonderful. 

This time, it was Otabek who tossed a cell phone across the room.

The next day went by in a blur. Otabek didn’t really remember much of anything, not even his own program, except when Yuri skated. The boy had become magic on skates. He left behind a trail of power and intrigue in his wake, landing every phenomenal jump with precision and flair. The audience was absolutely captivated, and rightly so. No one ever skated quite like Yuri Pliesetsky did. Otabek was confident that anyone ever would.

The final score was impeccable. It was a guaranteed gold at this point. The score of the last skaters confirmed it. Otabek didn’t get a place on the podium, but it didn’t matter at the moment. His sense of pride overpowered any feeling of disappointment that threatened to seep in.

Once he got Yuri in his arms later that day, there was no letting go. He held on through dinner and well into the night. Yuri was always so exuberant after winning gold. It was like he lived for the top of the podium. Otabek thrived on that energy.

Once they were in Otabek's room, Yuri retrieved his metal and hung it around the others neck. It sparkled just as much as Yuri's ring did in the light. 

“A promise is a promise. And damn, if that fucker doesn’t look good on you.” 

The compliment was accompanied by a wink and a shit-eating grin. Otabek was over the moon, as was his now repaired ego. He spent his time ravishing Yuri in any and every way he asked. He whispered praise as he took his time to thoroughly fuck the other into the mattress as many times as they were able. The lack of affection during competitions always made them insatiable afterwards.

The night's activities had kept them in well into the morning. Otabek had awoken to the sun hitting his face and Yuri admiring his ring again. Yuri turned an exuberant smile his way, the kind of genuine smile that was always going to be Otabek's undoing. Everything was perfect for a couple of seconds. Until Yuri opened his mouth and suggested something that would send them into a wild run around for nearly the whole afternoon. 

“Fuck it, let’s get married today. Right now.”


	2. Do it for the 'gram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello...
> 
> I have momentarily crawled out of the bin to bring you that conclusion I promised!
> 
> You guys though, have you any idea how fucking fantastic you guys are??? Like Holy shit!!
> 
> Your comments, kudos, and everything else brought all kinds of fuzzies and I am so grateful to you for that! 
> 
> So now I will shut the hell up and let you read on!

Otabek furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to protest but was promptly interrupted when Yuri continued.

“I mean it, Altin. I’m not fucking waiting anymore. We’re going to the town hall and doing it.”

Yuri dressed in his formal wear, forcing Otabek to do the same. He straightened his bowtie and messed with his hair until he was satisfied with it. All of his attempts at protest were thwarted by tactical touches and well strategized kisses. Yuri was evil for manipulating him in the way he did. Soon enough the pair made it to the nearest courthouse in Marseilles. 

The amount of requirements needed to wed in France were astonishing. Foreigners needed to prove they were allowed to marry, have residency for 30 days, and all of their documents translated to French. Yuri was on the verge of a hysterical meltdown before Otabek stopped him. He ran down the list and practically solved all of their problems.

Luckily, their legal documents were already properly translated to French thanks to their participation in this year’s GPF. The residency part was taken care of by Otabek himself when he remembered his name was on the deed to one of his parent’s summer homes in Borduex. In a matter of seven hours, a whole lot of running around, faxing documents, and dragging a couple of friends along as witnesses, the two were finally signing the legal papers to be wed. 

Otabek was first to get to the sign in portion. He stared at it ruefully, the bitter taste rising up his throat. 

“ _Fuck you. I’m keeping my last name. It’s iconic.”_

As iconic as it was, it was no better or less than Altin. And Otabek's bitterness got the better of him. He signed the papers in the same way he signed any legal documents: _Otabek Azahmat Altin._ He hated it. He hated himself more for doing it. Otabek was silent for a good while, the papers still in front of him. Maybe he should scratch it out and write Pliesetsky? Yuri took his hesitation for nerves and laced one of his hands with one of his own. 

“Otabek? If you think this is fucking insane, or like, disgusting, I want you to tell me right now. Tell me I’m Bat shit crazy if you want and I won’t love you any less than I already do. I just want us…to be happy. Together.”

He glanced at his partner to find a worried but stern gaze. Yuri could be bratty and bitchy when he wanted, but at his best he was one of the most honest people Otabek knew. 

And that was one of the things that made him fall genuinely in love with Yuri in the first place, his unbridled honesty, even when it came laced with a litany of swear words. He wouldn’t be himself without it and that would never be something Otabek would want to change. 

Suddenly, a surname seemed something stupid to worry about. Otabek wasn’t marrying a couple of letters arranged to form a name, it was so much more than that. He was marrying the one person he knew loved everything about himself, even the parts he felt were inadequate. 

At this point, he didn’t even care if they mashed their surnames together into something like “Altisetsky” or “Plieltin” and wore it on tee shirts as if it was a religion. He leaned over and kissed Yuri's forehead.

“I love you. And I want this.” He whispered into his hairline, sounding more sure than he ever had about anything in his life.

“Then that’s enough for me.”

Yuri snatched the papers and signed them, giving them back to the court official. A couple of minutes passed with things being stamped and signed before they were handed a proper marriage certificate. Yuri popped out his phone, posed Otabek, held up the certificate, and took a selfie.

“I’m gonna break the ‘gram.” He informed the room before typing away on his phone. To Otabek, it still was very surreal. Less than a week ago, he had to avoid all social media in order to avoid ridicule for the proposal scandal. Now, he stood in some courthouse in France with his new husband and their friends. 

So. Freaking. _Weird._

In a matter of minutes the room suspiciously emptied out, everyone suddenly stating that ‘they had plans.’ Thinking nothing more of it, Otabek lead Yuri out if the courthouse and into a cab. Yuri held his hand the whole way, looking endearingly at him every chance he got. He couldn’t help but return the smile and squeeze the fingers entangled with his own. It was so domestic. 

The mood flipped as soon as they reached the hotel lobby and were ambushed by Viktor Nikiforov himself. He shoved garment bags into their hands and pushed them towards the elevator with vigor. They shot him twin quizzical stares, but before anyone could open their mouths to respond, Viktor spoke. 

“You have forty five minutes to get dressed! Meet me back here in the lobby! Don’t keep me waiting!”

“Where the fuck do you get off telling us what to do? You skipped out on our wedding, you hag! I’m not fucking letting that go!”

Viktor put a finger over his lips in an attempt to stop the tirade.

“Hush! Now go!” He pushed some buttons on the elevator’s control panel and dashed away. Otabek sighed and leaned against the wall as the elevator doors closed. Yuri groaned and opted for crowding Otabek's space instead of sulking. He kissed each of his cheeks and then the center of his brow. His height advantage allowed him easy access to any spot on the other's face. Otabek nudged Yuri's nose with his own, a smile quickly spreading on his lips.

“You look mighty fine today, Mr. Altin.” Yuri laughed airily after speaking, now wrapping his arms around the others neck. Otabek automatically wrapped an arm around Yuri's waist. He held onto the garment bags with the other.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” He pressed his lips and nose against the side of Yuri's neck. The blond pushed his body flush against the other and kissed every part of him he could. Otabek slid his hand down, his palm coming to rest against the curve of Yuri's rear, his fingers squeezing hungrily.

Yuri gasped softly and arched into the touch.

“Well. I _have_ been told I was quite the handful before.” He let out another laugh, this time Otabek joined him. The elevator dinged, alerting the pair that they had reached their floor. It was a good thing, considering Otabek would have been mortified to be caught groping in an elevator.

In a feat of sudden boldness, Otabek leaned over and hooked his arms behind Yuri’s thighs. He lifted him up and wrapped his impossibly long legs around himself. Yuri giggled, _actually giggled_ , and didn’t protest to being carried for once. He wrapped his arms around Otabek and held on tight. It was a little bit hard to maneuver with the garment bags in tow, but Otabek managed.

“Full of surprises, aren’t we?”

“Maybe you rubbed off on me.” Otabek responded.

“That was yesterday, Beka. Buuut if you want a repeat…” Yuri punctuated his statement with a wag of his eyebrows.

Otabek laughed and carried his, now, husband to their room. Using one hand, he retrieved his key card and opened the door, stepping into the room they had shared last night. 

“I think you were supposed to carry me in bridle style through the threshold, not wrapped around you with your hand on my ass.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow and squeezed Yuri's rear again, causing him to laugh and squirm in his grip.

“Last I checked, I have a groom, not a bride.”

He walked them to the bed then deposited Yuri onto it, wasting no time in tossing the garment bags to the side and crawling over him and covering his body with his own. The kisses they shared were fueled by desire and laced with a hint of desperation. Hands groped, played, and undressed as they went. 

“So I take it we’re consummating this thing instead of listening to Viktor?”

“You’re damn right.” Otabek confirmed as he continued his movements. 

They didn’t get much farther due to a harsh rapping on their door. After the disturbing knock came an even more disturbing voice. 

“Darlings! I don’t hear you getting dreeeeesssed! In fact, I hear the opposite! I thought I made it very clear that it was important!”

This time, Yuri screamed. “Viktor, fuck off!”

“No. I’m not moving from this door until you dress and come with me!”

Having no other choice, the pair collected the garment bags and began getting dressed in what was provided. Not before Yuri yelled one more obscenity at the closed door, of course.

“Fucking cockblock!”

Once dressed, the door was opened to reveal Viktor standing next to another one of their rink mates, Mila Babicheva. Apparently, her help was solicited to help groom the two, specifically Yuri who’s hair she manipulated into a beautiful series of braids. 

“Matching white Armani suits and hairstyles by Baba? What are you getting at Old man? And don’t get me started on how the hell you know our measurements!”

“Simply observing, my sweet Yurio.” Was the unsatisfying answer as he ushered them out of their hotel and into a waiting vehicle. He practically vibrated in his seat next to the pair. The car drove through winding roads for a good while before reaching what appeared to be some type of venue.

No one bothered to ask questions as they were led into a large dining hall, decorated with all things fancy and filled with most of their friends and ice skating acquaintances. The crowd gave a loud roar of ‘congratulations’ as the couple was spotted. Yuri glowered at Viktor. 

“What? I wasn’t at your wedding because I was putting together your reception! Consider it a wedding gift!”

Any attack Yuri had was shut down when Yuri K approached and pulled both of them into a hug. “I'm so happy for you two! I hope you don’t mind this, it was short notice and Viktor tried his best with what he could work with.”

“I’m gonna kill him tomorrow morning, so have fun with him tonight!”

Otabek wound an arm around Yuri’s waist and squeezed. “He means ‘thank you.’”

He excused them and led Yuri around the room to greet friends. The venue was extravagant, there was an actual DJ, the food was surprisingly good, and there was actually a cake. Leave it to Nikiforov to go over the top with anything he did. 

One thing Otabek found peculiar about the night was Yuri. Every time someone used ‘Pliesetsky,’ he corrected it to ‘Altin.’ Otabek thought it was a trick of the mind, the incidents happened so fleetingly. After not hearing it for a while, he just let it go.

Later in the evening they were prompted to open the wedding gifts. There were so many kitchen appliances and dinnerware than what they knew what to do with. The one gift that brightened Yuri’s eyes was a lavish leopard print bed throw with an expensive matching sheet set, not surprisingly from Viktor and Yuuri. Those two were the only people who would really knew and respected their friend's taste. 

After all the gifts were opened, Viktor handed Yuri the mic to apparently give words of ‘thanks.’ Again, this was Yuri. 

“Thanks, assholes. Now we have to pay to ship this shit home!”

Otabek took the mic and tried not to laugh as he spoke into it. “He means ‘we appreciate it.’” Yuri shot him a displeased look which sent Otabek and the rest of the room into a fit of laughter. 

At this point, Viktor took back the microphone. “The Altin Plisetskys, everyone.”

“Just Altin, hag.” Both Otabek and Viktor turned their heads so quickly that they might have gotten whiplash. 

“What? I married an Altin, so now I’m Yuri Altin? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

With two blank stares on him, Yuri growled. He pulled Otabek away from Viktor and tugged him into a secluded corner. 

“Beka? Seriously?”

Yuri retrieved his phone from his pocket and began searching for something. He pulled up the picture from the courthouse he had posted earlier and presented it to Otabek. 

There, on the marriage certificate read ‘Mr. Otabek & Yuri Altin.’ No Pliesetsky to be found.

Otabek didn’t know how the hell to feel.

“But when I proposed you said-“

“I know. Trust me, I know. And yeah, ‘Pliesetsky’ is iconic, but ‘Altin’ is Instagram famous.” Yuri grinned and brought Otabek's attention to the number of likes. It was his first picture to breach a million likes.

“I’m keeping Pliesetsky for the rest of the season, but after that it’s Altin all the way. Besides, none of my other gold Ever got me over a million likes on Instagram.”

Otabek was overwhelmed with emotion, something that didn’t happen often. He swept Yuri into a tight hug and held him close. It was all so much. Tears filled to the brim of his eyes and he let out a small, incredulous laugh. Yuri pulled back and wiped at the corners of his husband's eyes. 

“I love you, stupid.”

Otabek kissed him several times before responding. 

“I love you too.” He retrieved his phone and posed them for a selfie. Yuri provided his most toothy grin as Otabek framed the shot to have the hall and party guests in the background. Before snapping it, he turned his head and laid a soft Kiss on Yuri’s pale cheek. 

“It's the most beautiful selfie to ever exist.” Yuri exaggerated, but Otabek found it endearing all the same. In fact, everything the boy before him ever did would always be endearing to him. And he hoped for it to remain that way for the rest of their lives together.

“Grandpa says we have to have a ceremony in Moscow since he couldn’t be here , and I’m sure your parents will want one in Almaty too. Hmm…. That’s going to take a lot of planning and more gross romantic shit but I guess...”

Otabek let Yuri prattle on and started to post the picture on his Instagram. He was right, it was a beautiful selfie. They looked happy. Otabek tried to pick the best caption possible along with appropriate hashtags. When he was satisfied with everything, he posted it. 

 

**Otabek-Altin has posted a picture**

_He's iconic and I’m Insta-famous. Much love from the Altins. @yuri-pliesetsky_

_#TheAltins #justmarried #davai_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very late as I post this and... I AM FEELING PERSONALLY VICTIMIZED BY WTTM TO THE POINT I AM UNABLE TO SLEEP....
> 
> LIKE.
> 
> WHAT
> 
> THE
> 
> FINGER-BANGING
> 
> FUCK??!?!
> 
> I have died happily....Like seriously, if you comment on here with the sole purpose of yelling about Otayuri, I wouldn't even be mad at you, that shit is TOO MUCH...
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, actual fic notes now. It is not that easy to marry in France. It literally takes DAYS, but for fic sakes, I narrowed it down to hours. 
> 
> A little HC of mine made a small cameo. Yuri isn't too fond of 'I love you' because even though he means it, it makes him feel gross. It kind of makes him think of Viktor and Yuuri and their kind of love just isn't the way he wants to handle. He throws in an insult to make himself feel better. Otabek never minds cause he just _knows_ Yuri that well. 
> 
> I know it was a little long, but thanks for hanging in there. I had a lot of fun writing it. Hope you enjoyed as well. Any kind of feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> Seriously, you guys are the sexy fingerless gloves to my perfect and white Otabek teeth <3

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hit me. Please. I am fragile and bruise easily!!! 
> 
> I originally intended this to be a single chapter thing, but got carried away with writing. Conclusion is already typed up and waiting to be posted!
> 
> NGL, Yuri and 'welcome to the madness' is what got me to watch YOI in the first place. I shipped Otayuri long before even watching the show!
> 
> Now excuse me while I climb into the bin, for I am trash.
> 
> Bye bye!


End file.
